#anyway SUN-HATER SWEEP

[sawthatmountainburn]

Usually so people can't see into your window in the evening, esp if you're changing clothes before going to bed or watching porn on your giant flat screen TV

i have a slightly insane relationship with window curtains/blinds and i need to know if im alone

[pinknerdpanda]

The Grinch

Word Count: 2360 (including lyrics - italicized below) Characters: Sam x reader, Dean Warnings: canon-level violence/gore Requested by: @roxyspearing

A/N: This is a full blown fic and I’m not sorry about it. I had this idea before I got Roxy’s request and so I was glad to get to write it. I hope you don’t mind I veered slightly. This was written for my Merry Manda’s Panda Presents celebration. Beta’d by @hannahindie & @wheresthekillswitch

Merry Manda’s Christmas Masterlist

x

The Grinch

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh come on. Don’t be such a drama queen,” I smirked up at Dean Winchester to find his face tinged a shade of green that manages to clash with his eyes. He clamps a hand over his mouth and turns away. I look back at Sam, his eyes sparkling in the morning sun as he forces down a grin. The local badge tends to get suspicious when they see a federal agent with a smile on their face.

He clears his throat. “Ok, so, fifth body in three days. All with their hearts ripped clean out of their chests.”

I prod at a pulpy red glob of heart meat with the end of my pencil.”I don’t know if ‘clean’ is the word I would use.” I scowl and lower my voice. “So what are we thinking, werewolf?”

Sam cocks his head to the side, his hair falling over the shoulder of his navy suit. His gaze roams over the bloodied remains of vic number five. He shakes his head. “I dunno. Maybe not. Werewolves usually eat the heart. Not leave it in pieces all over the ground.” He places his hands on his knees, pushing to a stand as he glances around.

A small crowd has begun to gather in the few hours since the body was discovered by a runner in the early morning light. A bewildered and exhausted looking deputy is trying to keep the onlookers from disturbing the crime scene. Dean strides across the clearing, one hand in the pocket of his suit pants and the other rubbing anxiously at his jaw.

“Talked to Paul Blart over there, and the coroner’s report came back just as they got the call for…” he gestures vaguely at the ground without looking at it. “Anyway, turns out that they were able to piece back about 87% of victim number one’s heart and the thing was three times the size of a normal human heart. What does that?”

Sam sighs and pushes a hand absently through his hair. It’s distracting as hell, but I do my best to keep my mind on the task. “I don’t know, man. I can check the lore, maybe call around and see if anyone has any ideas. One of you two should go talk to the family and maybe the other can scope out the home? See if anything seems a little off?”

I nod and look at Dean. “I’ll take interviews and you do the snooping?”

“Sounds good to me. We’ll regroup back at the motel?”

Everyone agrees and we head in the direction of our assumed tasks.

Three hours later

“Seriously, Dean, can you turn that down, please?” Sam’s voice is muffled as I approach the door of the motel. Of course Dean made it back before I did. I really shouldn’t have given him the easy job, but I felt bad for the guy.

“Honey, I’m home,” I drone, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Sam is bowed over three open books and a tablet, with his fingers jammed into his ears trying to concentrate. Dean is sprawled across one of the beds behind Sam, shoes and jacket off and his tie loose around his neck. He’d folded his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and his hands are folded across his stomach. The sound of the television all but drowning out his light snores. I toss my purse on the seat across from Sam, startling him. “Sorry, Sam.” I shrug out of my jacket and step out of my fed shoes.

“It’s fine,” his lips are pressed together, forming a perfectly shaped frown as he glances up at me.

The music from the TV is familiar and I start humming along.

You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch, You have termites in your smile, You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch, Given a choice between the two of you'd take the seasick crocodile!

The sight of Dean, fast asleep watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas twice as loud as necessary makes me chuckle. I pad over to the television and turn the volume down. Sam looks up as I move to sit in the chair beside him, relieved and grateful.

“Find anything yet?”

“No. I’ve looked through every book and database and there’s nothing. Every hunter I called is clueless.” He sighs and pushes the books back toward the middle of the table. He sits back, slumping low in the chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. “How about you?”

“Well besides the fact that apparently all of them hated Christmas, no, not really. Nothing connecting any of the vics besides the MO.”

Sam frowns. “Hated Christmas?”

“Yeah, according to their friends and family they were real Scrooge McHumbugs this time of year.”

Sam stares thoughtfully at nothing, his eyes flicking back and forth.

“Talk to me, Moose. What’s goin’ on inside that head of yours?”

Sam rolls his eyes almost imperceptibly, but his dimples deceive him. “Well, it’s just,” he starts and stops again. “Dean found one of these buried in shopping bags at the three of the vic’s houses and two of their cars.” Sam passes over a crumpled fast food bag, a large greasy spot taking over one of its sides.

I give Sam an incredulous look before opening it. Inside, five round Christmas ornaments lay nestled in the bottom of the bag, each one red with intricate gold detailing. I remove one, holding it carefully in the palm of my hand. Sam continues.

“If they all hated Christmas so much, why were they hiding these?”

I tilt my head from one side and then the other, looking at it from all sides. I don’t know what makes me do it, but after a few long seconds, I pick it up and shake it tentatively. At first there’s no sound of anything inside, but I shake it once more, this time closer to my ear. There’s the faintest hint of something moving around inside.

I stand abruptly, and, slipping on my Fed shoes again, fling the door open and step outside, silently. As Sam follows me out the door, I toss the ornament on the pavement. It shatters immediately and Sam starts to protest, but his words are cut off as we both see the small leather pouch now covered in shards of glass.

I kneel down, pick it up and unwrap it. “Looks like a peppermint, a piece of tinsel, a leaf of some sort and a tooth?” I hold my palm out, letting Sam examine the contents.

“I think...is that…?” He plucks the leaf from my palm, taking a cursory sniff. “It is. It’s mistletoe. What the hell?”

“It looks like a very festive hexbag,” I offer, surprised when Sam’s eyes widen, the gears all clicking into place.

“It’s a witch.”

-----

“I friggin’ hate these places,” I moan, desperately trying to dig in my heels as Sam ushers me across the parking lot.

“You were the one who insisted we play rock paper scissors to decide who plays decoy,” Sam’s voice is low.

“Right!” I snarl, whirling around to face him.  “This is because I didn’t catch the fact that they all had the same dentist. I said I was sorry.”

He smiles, placing his hands on my shoulders and giving me one of those looks that makes my insides feel like they are trying to become my outsides. “You know that’s not it. I wouldn’t have thought to check that.” He’s lying through his gorgeously perfect teeth, but I appreciate the effort. “This is the only other thing connecting the five victims. You can do this. I’ll be in the waiting room, Dean is pulled around back. We just have to play spot the witch and we can gank it and be done. Okay?”

I sigh and nod, allowing him to turn me around. For good measure, I clutch at my jaw and moan softly in pain as Sam throws open the door and we step inside. The waiting area is small and sterile with a few neat chairs lining one wall. In one corner stands an exquisitely decorated Christmas tree, each branch almost shimmering in the glow of the Christmas lights.  A woman with a square face and large, coke bottle glasses peeks up from behind the reception desk.

“How may I help you?”

“Hi, I called earlier,” Sam lays on the charm. “My girlfriend thinks she’s broken a tooth. We have an appointment for Luwho. Cindy Luwho.”

She clicks and taps for a few seconds. “Ah, yes I see. We have some paperwork to complete…”

“I’ll take care of it,” Sam interrupts. She looks put off by his insistence, so he smiles extra broadly at her. “I just hate watching my girl suffer, so if I can get her back to see the doc pretty quickly, that would be great.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m settled as comfortably as possible in the awkward half sitting, half lying down chair when the door behinds me creaks open. A petite, but handsome man comes into view. His smile is whiter than the snow I keep waiting to fall and there’s a faint tinkling of bells that I can only assume is coming from the brightly colored festive Christmas sweater covering his narrow chest.

“Hello, I’m Ted,” his voice is warm and friendly and reminds me faintly of music. “I’m gonna get your pearly whites all shiny and ready for the doc to come in and have a look!”

I force a smile and lie back, allowing him to poke and prod to his little festive heart’s desire.

“Are you all ready for Christmas?” His eyes glitter with excitement as he presses the electric toothbrush to a molar. I shrug and his face darkens faintly. “Oh come now, don’t tell me you’re a big ol’ fun hater!” He frowns in a mocking way and I resist the urge to punch him in his perfectly straight nose. I try to respond, forgetting for a second that Ted’s gloved hands are nearly wrist deep in my mouth. I end up sounding vaguely of a wookie.

“Well, Christmas is just my favorite. All the jingle bells and Christmas cheer?” His smile is back and has a leering quality to it. He sets down the toothbrush and begins rinsing my mouth and sucking the extra liquid with an uncomfortable squelching sound from the sucker tube.  “It’s just to die for!”

A knock on the door halts my response. A beautiful, young female in a pair of blue scrubs sweeps in, smiling. Ted stands, bumping me in the head with a hip as he moves to the door.

“Hello, Cindy. I am Doctor Suze. Let’s have a look at those chompers, shall we?”

I cringe as she places the metal instruments in my mouth. Examining every nook and cranny, she checks each tooth silently, she sits back, her eyebrows creased in consideration of the facts presented to her.

“Everything looks good, Cindy. I don’t see any kind of breakage. You may have just bitten down wrong. If it keeps hurting you can come back in a week.” The door creaks open again just as she moves to stand. “I’ll make sure Ted here gets your goodies. It’s pretty standard, a toothbrush, some toothpaste, mouthwash. Oh and, Mr. Merry Christmas himself has made a slew of handmade ornaments to give to all the patients!” She smiles brightly just before she disappears from view.

I stand abruptly as Ted’s face comes into view, his smile a little too merry for my liking.

“Actually, you know what, Ted? I think I’m good, I’ll just be on my way…” I push past him and practically run out the door. Before I can make it three steps into the hallway, a hand grips tightly onto my hair, yanking me backwards.

“You think I don’t know why you’re here?” Ted’s toothy grin is unsettling as he shoves me back in the room, slamming the door closed. “I can spot a hunter a mile away.”

I scream as loud as my lungs will allow and he slaps a hand over my mouth. I jerk my elbow back, aiming for the spot just under his ribs and kick behind me, hard, landing the heel of my boot squarely on his kneecap.

He cries out in pain, releasing his grip and crumpling to the floor. I pull my gun from where it’s holstered under my left arm. He sneers and chokes out a laugh between anguished moans.

“Oh honey. You think that’s gonna work on me?”

“I mean, it’s worked on every other witch I’ve killed,” I shrug. “Witch killing bullets and all. So what’s the deal. Why are you killing these people?”

He hesitates, and I can see him weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “I miss the good old days, ya know? It used to be, people looked forward all year to Christmas. There was a magic to it. And now, it’s like the magic is gone. I mean the commercialism is bad enough, but so many people just hate Christmas. It makes me sick. Santa always said the times were changing, but I never listened.”

“Santa?” I scoff. “Like ho, ho, ho. Big fat man in a suit…”

“You hold your tongue. People like you don’t deserve to have his name in your mouth. You can’t imagine the turmoil he’s experienced all these years. The number of people who believe are at an all time low, and that’s why elves like me are getting laid off, left and right.”

“Wait, so you expect me to believe that, not only is Santa real, you used to work for him as an elf? And what? You get laid off and take up a new hobby? Witchcraft.” I can’t help but laugh. The whole things sounds so absurd. This must be how people feel when Sam gives them his “monsters are real” spiel.

He senses the distraction and raises a hand. However, I’m quicker and I plant two shots in his chest.

“Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.”

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :)

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